


He stands Dorian at her

by Nasyat



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: (He Is Still Kind Of Soft), Birds, Corvids Are The Smartest Of Birds, Dead animals, Gone Is The Era Of Soft Maxwell, I don’t know what I’ve written, I just wrote this like one of my Russian fanfictions, M/M, Rabbits, To be honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 18:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasyat/pseuds/Nasyat
Summary: need. A dead bird in a cage is better than a dead rabbit at hand.





	He stands Dorian at her

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Peter Murphy songs “Canvas Beauty (Romance Version)” and “Gaslit”. Honestly this is a heavy-ish read, needs to be beta-ed and it just came out of me right now like no one’s business. Hope you are able to enjoy it, anyway!

The bird sat in the cage, perched on the little fancy swing, with its claws clutching on the stick in tense spirits. The raven looked at them with a certain, emotionless expression that birds have, that still somehow conveyed things like nervousness and being on guard. Wilson stared the bird back, unusually quiet. He was known for capturing feathery creatures, carrying them around in his pocket, showing around... killing, on accident. The scientist was like a child in some ways.

“Don’t try to pet it, Higgsbury. It doesn’t play nicely,” said Maxwell, gripping his shadowy book under his armpit. Wilson just showed him his finger, wrapped in a bloody rag.

“I know.”

The older man wanted to tell him how stupid the other was, but held back. “Where did you get the cage? I know you aren’t that crafty.”

“I am crafty _enough_. But I found it,” replied the scientist distractedly, walking in circles. Upon the ‘where?’ inquiry he just waved his hand in an uncertain direction, - clearly, just to dismiss it.

The cage resided on their campground, right in the very middle. Wilson often visited it, watching the bird. Maxwell watched Wilson, not saying anything. He wondered if what he expected to happen would indeed happen.

The bird died. Wilson looked at its dead body, his mouth opened in shock. Maxwell almost felt pity at this sight. Almost.

“Did you feed it, Higgsbury?” The scientist (hah! the fool) shifted his gaze at him, with heat pushing at the skin of his face effortlessly. “I...”

Maxwell walked up to the cage, opening its barred door. He took the feathery corpse out. “Living things die without food and water, Mister Scientist,” he said, sarcastically. Wilson knitted his brow pathetically, not bothering to hide behind dry, flat humor or the grumpy expression. “Although...”

“Corvids are the smartest of birds,” said Wilson, almost grievous. Maxwell felt something in his hand and smiled. “Indeed. It fooled you, Higgsbury.”

The magician threw the bird in the air and it started up, catching on, and - flying, away. Wilson looked at its fluttering wings with an agape expression. “I should have known,” he whispered, and pointed at the older man, who was grinning triumphantly. “You gaslit me! I knew I was feeding it!”

“Ah, ah, Higgsbury, don’t be a sore looser at this game.” He wagged his finger at the little scientist with mischief plastered on his features. Wilson sighed, and laughed.

***

They sat in front of each other, backs against bark, and Maxwell was absentmindedly petting a dead rabbit. Wilson, who at first found the action macabre, got on terms with it, more or less. These wild rabbits weren’t the gentlest of creatures, yet Wilson kept promising that cometh spring and he would raise and tame a litter of tiny critters, just so Maxwell has something alive to pet, if he wishes to do so that badly. The magician gave him a strange look then; but he was grateful, really.

“This is plain morbid,” he heard the other whisper. The older man raised his eyes at the younger scientist, who was all but squirming. He smiled, almost apologetically, and Wilson’s frown deepened.

“You need to pet something that bad? This is not right.” Maxwell kept smiling, and the other scrambled up and walked up to him, sitting down next to the dapper magician. Wilson nudged him and lowered his head. “Come on. Pet my hair, it’s better.”

“You volunteer? How chivalrous,” said Maxwell, flashing an unnerving grin, yet he felt his heart clench with anticipation. “It’s better that way,” repeated Wilson; he still had his head lowered invitingly. The magician laid off the rabbit carcass and touched upon the other’s hair with his fingers.

The hair was stiff, almost bristly, and Wilson was in an urgent need of a shower, but that’s what the older man was seeking for, wasn’t it?

The scientist didn’t know how he ended up on the other’s knees, his head being gently stroked, long, knotty fingers surely running through his hair.

“Using your dead-rabbit petting technique on me, aren’t you?” Groaned Wilson. He felt as if his body was melting, falling apart at the seams and junctures. Maxwell began caressing his nape, and the younger man moaned.

***

“That young lady... She was nice,” decidedly said Wilson, throwing off a bunch cleanly sharpened sticks. Maxwell looked at him askance, and began making a fence. “What young lady, Higgsbury?”

The scientist waved his hand undecidedly. “The one who saved me. From the Throne. She smiled at me, and even touched my nose with her small, elegant finger.”

“Is that all you need to fall in love with someone, Higgsbury? For them to smile and touch your nose?” Maxwell was upset; annoyed and distracted. He didn’t like the idea of Charlie stepping into this matter. From which point, he didn’t know, yet he still felt a pang if jealousy. “Didn’t you say that Charlie tried to kill you this instant?”

“Well, there’s a certain feeling of liberation involved...” The magician grew quiet at that. “I don’t believe that actually was... wait, what? Charlie?”

Maxwell froze. He really didn’t want that to slip.

Wilson approached him, looking somewhat concerned. “How do you know her?”

Maxwell broke away from the stick he was hammering in with angry abandon. And angrily sighed. “Charlie was my assistant. To be fair, you don’t know much about my past anyway, now do you?”

Wilson seemed to be at a loss. “Well... I-”

“I prefer it stays that way, Higgsbury, thank you very much.” Maxwell finally let go of his mallet (much to the scientist’s relief) and was now massaging his wrinkly forehead. Wilson was quiet, but it was obvious that he desperately sought answers.

He must’ve learned from his past mistakes, because, finally, he let the matters go, by sighing resignedly and walking off to sharpen more sticks.

***

Maxwell was petting a dead rabbit again; clenching his jaw tightly, almost grinding his teeth and frowning like no tomorrow. Wilson watched him clawing at the fur, speechless.

“Well, I’m glad that isn’t me.”

The older man growled. The gentleman scientist sat in front of him, but a bit further away than it was needed (definitely further away than Maxwell wanted), so it was clear that the following would not be considered a friendly and relaxed conversation.

Wilson kept a pause. “What got you so wound up?”

“It’s none of your business, Higgsbury,” hissed the magician. The younger man squinted at the deceased animal in his hands.

“This cannot be good for your sanity.”

“Why do you care, anyway?! Piss off!”

The scientist was seemingly loosing his patience. “Just spit it out, will you?!”

Maxwell abruptly laid off the rabbit carcass, stood up, and approached the other in ragged motions. Then he bestowed the scientist with a very sour smile and bent down to brush his index down the other’s nose. Wilson fell silent.

After a while, he managed, “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” said Maxwell. “After all, there’s a certain ‘feeling of liberation’ involved.”

Wilson seemed to have been struggling with himself. Finally, he gazed at the older man with a smile that was almost not crooked.

“I suppose you’re in a desperate need of petting yourself, aren’t you? Come here.”

Wordlessly, Maxwell knelt.


End file.
